of gallantry and courage belonged to the noble class; they were
identified with aristocratic institutions; they lived in castles; they
were the wives and daughters of feudal princes and nobles whose business
was war, and who were rough and turbulent warriors, and sometimes no
better than robbers, but who had the virtues of chivalry, which was at
its height during the wars of Edward III. And yet neither the proud
feudal nobles nor their courageous wives and daughters took any notice
of the plebeian people, except to oppress and grind them down. No
virtues were developed by feudalism among the people but submission,
patience, and loyalty.
And thus it is extraordinary that such a person should appear in that
chivalric age as Joan of Arc, who rose from the humblest class, who
could neither read nor write,--a peasant girl without friends or
influence, living among the Vosges mountains on the borders of Champagne
and Lorraine. She was born in 1412, in the little obscure village of
Domremy on the Meuse, on land belonging to the French crown. She lived
in a fair and fertile valley on the line of the river, on the other side
of which were the Burgundian territories. The Lorraine of the Vosges was
a mountainous district covered with forests, which served for royal
hunting parties. The village of Domremy itself was once a dependency of
the abbey of St. Remy at Rheims. This district had suffered cruelly
from the wars between the Burgundians and the adherents of the
Armagnacs, one of the great feudal families of France in the
Middle Ages.
Joan, or Jeanne, was the third daughter of one of the peasant laborers
of Domremy. She was employed by her mother in spinning and sewing, while
her sisters and brothers were set to watch cattle. Her mother could
teach her neither to read nor write, but early imbued her mind with the
sense of duty. Joan was naturally devout, and faultless in her morals;
simple, natural, gentle, fond of attending the village church; devoting
herself, when not wanted at home, to nursing the sick,--the best girl in
the village; strong, healthy, and beautiful; a spirit lowly but poetic,
superstitious but humane, and fond of romantic adventures. But her piety
was one of her most marked peculiarities, and somehow or other she knew
more than we can explain of Scripture heroes and heroines.
One of the legends of that age and place was that the marches of
Lorraine were to give birth to a maid who was to save the
realm,--founded on an old prophecy of Merlin. It seems that when only
thirteen years old Joan saw visions, and heard celestial voices bidding
her to be good and to trust in God; and as virginity was supposed to be
a supernal virtue, she vowed to remain a virgin, but told no one of her
vow or her visions. She seems to have been a girl of extraordinary good
sense, which was as marked as her religious enthusiasm.
The most remarkable thing about this young peasant girl is that she
claimed to have had visions and heard voices which are difficult to be
distinguished from supernatural,--something like the daemon of Socrates.
She affirmed that Saint Michael the Archangel appeared to her in glory,
also Saint Catherine and Saint Margaret, encouraging her in virtue, and
indicating to her that a great mission was before her, that she was to
deliver her king and country. Such claims have not been treated with
incredulity or contempt by French historians, especially Barante and
Michelet, in view of the wonderful work she was instrumental in
accomplishing.
At this period France was afflicted with that cruel war which had at
intervals been carried on for nearly a century between the English and
French kings, and which had arisen from the claims of Edward I to the
throne of France. The whole country was distracted, forlorn, and
miserable; it was impoverished, overrun, and drained of fighting men.
The war had exhausted the resources of England as well as those of
France. The population of England at the close of this long series of
wars was less than it was under Henry II. Those wars were more
disastrous to the interests of both the rival kingdoms than even those
of the Crusades, and they were marked by great changes and great
calamities. The victories of Crécy, Poictiers, and Agincourt--which shed
such lustre on the English nation--were followed by reverses, miseries,
and defeats, which more than balanced the glories of Edward the Black
Prince and Henry V. Provinces were gained and lost, yet no decisive
results followed either victory or defeat. The French kings, driven
hither and thither, with a decimated people, and with the loss of some
of their finest provinces, still retained their sovereignty.
At one time, about the year 1347, Edward III. had seemed to have
attained the supreme object of his ambition. France lay bleeding at his
feet; he had won the greatest victory of his age; Normandy already
belonged to him, Guienne was recovered, Aquitaine was ceded to him,
Flanders was on his side, and the possession of Brittany seemed to open
his way to Paris. But in fourteen years these conquests were lost; the
plague scourged England, and popular discontents added to the
perplexities of the once fortunate monarch. Moreover, the House of
Commons had come to be a power and a check on royal ambition. The death
of the Black Prince consummated his grief and distraction, and the
heroic king gave himself up in his old age to a disgraceful profligacy,
and died in the arms of Alice Pierce, in the year 1377.
Fifty years pass by, and Henry V. is king of England, and renews his
claim to the French throne. The battle of Agincourt (1415) gives to
Henry V. the same _éclat_ that the victory of Crécy had bestowed on
Edward III. Again the French realm is devastated by triumphant
Englishmen. The King of France is a captive; his Queen is devoted to the
cause of Henry, the Duke of Burgundy is his ally, and he only needs the
formal recognition of the Estates to take possession of the French
throne. But in the year 1422, in the midst of his successes, he died of
a disease which baffled the skill of all his physicians, leaving his
kingdom to a child only nine years old, and the prosecution of the
French war to his brother the Duke of Bedford, who was scarcely inferior
to himself in military genius.
At this time, when Charles VI. of France was insane, and his oldest son
Louis dead, his second son Charles declared himself King of France, as
Charles VII. But only southern France acknowledged Charles, who at this
time was a boy of fifteen years. All the northern provinces, even
Guienne and Gascony, acknowledged Henry VI., the infant son of Henry V.
of England. Charles's affairs, therefore, were in a bad way, and there
was every prospect of the complete conquest of France. Even Paris was
the prey alternately of the Burgundians and the Armagnacs, the last of
whom were the adherents of Charles the Dauphin,--the legitimate heir to
the throne. He held his little court at Bourges, where he lived as gaily
as he could, sometimes in want of the necessaries of life. His troops
were chiefly Gascons, Lombards, and Scotch, who got no pay, and who
lived by pillage. He was so hard pressed by the Duke of Bedford that he
meditated a retreat into Dauphiné. It would seem that he was given to
pleasures, and was unworthy of his kingdom, which he nearly lost by
negligence and folly.
The Duke of Bedford, in order to drive Charles out of the central
provinces, resolved to take Orleans, which was the key to the south,--a
city on the north bank of the Loire, strongly fortified and well
provisioned. This was in 1428. The probabilities were that this city
would fall, for it was already besieged, and was beginning to
suffer famine.
In this critical period for France, Joan of Arc appeared on the stage,
being then a girl of sixteen (some say eighteen) years of age. Although
Joan, as we have said, was uneducated, she yet clearly comprehended the
critical condition of her country, and with the same confidence that
David had in himself and in his God when he armed himself with a sling
and a few pebbles to confront the full-armed giant of the Philistines,
inspired by her heavenly visions she resolved to deliver France. She
knew nothing of war; she had not been accustomed to equestrian
exercises, like a woman of chivalry; she had no friends; she had never
seen great people; she was poor and unimportant. To the eye of worldly
wisdom her resolution was perfectly absurd.
It was with the greatest difficulty that Joan finally obtained an
interview with Boudricourt, the governor of Vaucouleurs; and he laughed
at her, and bade her uncle take her home and chastise her for her
presumption. She returned to her humble home, but with resolutions
unabated. The voices encouraged her, and the common people believed in
her. Again, in the red coarse dress of a peasant girl, she sought the
governor, claiming that God had sent her. There was something so
strange, so persistent, so honest about her that he reported her case to
the King. Meanwhile, the Duke of Lorraine heard of her, and sent her a
safe-conduct, and the people of Vaucouleurs came forward and helped her.
They gave her a horse and the dress of a soldier; and the governor,
yielding to her urgency, furnished her with a sword and a letter to the
King. She left without seeing her parents,--which was one of the
subsequent charges against her,--and prosecuted her journey amid great
perils and fatigues, travelling by night with her four armed attendants.
After twelve days Joan reached Chinon, where the King was tarrying. But
here new difficulties arose: she could not get an interview with the
King; it was opposed by his most influential ministers and courtiers.
"Why waste precious time," said they, "when Orleans is in the utmost
peril, to give attention to a mad peasant-girl, who, if not mad, must be
possessed with a devil: a sorceress to be avoided; what can she do for
France?" The Archbishop of Rheims, the prime-minister of Charles,
especially was against her. The learned doctors of the schools derided
her claims. It would seem that her greatest enemies were in the Church
and the universities. "Not many wise, not many mighty are called." The
deliverers of nations in great exigencies rarely have the favor of the
great. But the women of the court spoke warmly in Joan's favor, for her
conduct was modest and irreproachable; and after two days she was
admitted to the royal castle, the Count of Vendôme leading her to the
royal presence. Charles stood among a crowd of nobles, all richly
dressed; but in her visions this pure enthusiast had seen more glories
than an earthly court, and she was undismayed. To the King she repeated
the words which had thus far acted liked a charm: "I am Joan the Maid,
sent by God to save France;" and she demanded troops. But the King was
cautious; he sent two monks to her native village to inquire all about
her, while nobles and ecclesiastics cross-questioned her. She was,
however, treated courteously, and given in charge to the King's
lieutenant, whose wife was a woman of virtue and piety. Many
distinguished people visited her in the castle to which she was
assigned, on whom she made a good impression by her modesty, good sense,
and sublime enthusiasm. It was long debated in the royal council whether
she should be received or rejected; but as affairs were in an
exceedingly critical condition, and Orleans was on the point of
surrender, it was concluded to listen to her voice.
It must be borne in mind that the age was exceedingly superstitious, and
the statesmen of the distracted and apparently ruined country probably
decided to make use of this girl, not from any cordial belief in her
mission, but from her influence on the people. She might stimulate them
to renewed efforts. She was an obscure and ignorant peasant-girl, it was
true, but God might have chosen her as an instrument. In this way very
humble people, with great claims, have often got the ear and the
approval of the wise and powerful, as instruments of Almighty
Providence. When Moody and Sankey first preached in London, it was the
Lord Chancellor and Lord Chief-Justice--who happened to be religious
men--that, amid the cynicism of ordinary men of rank, gave them the most
encouragement, and frequently attended their meetings.
And the voices which inspired the Maid of Orleans herself,--what were
these? Who can tell? Who can explain such mysteries? I would not
assert, nor would I deny, that they were the voices of inspiration. What
is inspiration? It has often been communicated to men. Who can deny that
the daemon of Socrates was something more than a fancied voice? When did
supernatural voices first begin to utter the power of God? When will the
voices of inspiration cease to be heard on earth? In view of the fact
that _she did_ accomplish her mission, the voices which inspired this
illiterate peasant to deliver France are not to be derided. Who can sit
in judgment on the ways in which Providence is seen to act? May He not
choose such instruments as He pleases? Are not all His ways mysterious,
never to be explained by the reason of man? Did not the occasion seem to
warrant something extraordinary? Here was a great country apparently on
the verge of ruin. To the eye of reason and experience it seemed that
France was to be henceforth ruled, as a subjugated country, by a foreign
power. Royal armies had failed to deliver her. Loyalty had failed to
arouse the people. Feudal envies and enmities had converted vassals into
foes. The Duke of Burgundy, the most powerful vassal of France, was in
arms against his liege lord. The whole land was rent with divisions and
treasons. And the legitimate king, who ought to have been a power, was
himself feeble, frivolous, and pleasure-seeking amid all his perils.
_He_ could not save the country. Who could save it? There were no great
generals. Universal despair hung over the land. The people were
depressed. Military resources were insufficient. If France was to be
preserved as an independent and powerful monarchy, something
extraordinary must happen to save it. The hope in feudal armies had
fled. In fact, only God could rescue the country in such perils and
under such forlorn circumstances.
Joan of Arc believed in God,--that He could do what He pleased, that He
was a power to be supplicated; and she prayed to Him to save France,
since princes could not save the land, divided by their rivalries and
jealousies and ambitions. And the conviction, after much prayer and
fasting, was impressed upon her mind--no matter how, but it _was_
impressed upon her--that God had chosen _her_ as His instrument, that it
was her mission to raise the siege of Orleans, and cause the young
Dauphin to be crowned king at Rheims. This conviction gave her courage
and faith and intrepidity. How could she, unacquainted with wars and
sieges, show the necessary military skill and genius? She did not
pretend to it. She claimed no other wisdom than that which was
communicated to her by celestial voices. If she could direct a military
movement in opposition to leaders of experience, it was only because
this movement was what was indicated by an archangel. And so decided
and imperative was she, that royal orders were given to obey her. One
thing was probable, whether a supernatural wisdom and power were given
her or not,--she yet might animate the courage of others, she might
stimulate them to heroic action, and revive their hopes; for if God was
with them, who could be against them? What she had to do was simply
this,--to persuade princes and nobles that the Lord would deliver the
nation. Let the conviction be planted in the minds of a religious people
that God is with them, and in some way will come to their aid if they
themselves will put forth their own energies, and they will be almost
sure to rally. And here was an inspired woman, as they supposed, ready
to lead them on to victory, not by her military skill, but by indicating
to them the way as an interpreter of the Divine will. This was not more
extraordinary than the repeated deliverances of the Hebrew nation under
religious leaders.
The signal deliverance of the French at that gloomy period from the
hands of the English, by Joan of Arc, was a religious movement. The Maid
is to be viewed as a religious phenomenon; she rested her whole power
and mission on the supposition that she was inspired to point out the
way of deliverance. She claimed nothing for herself, was utterly without
vanity, ambition, or pride, and had no worldly ends to gain. Her
character was without a flaw. She was as near perfection as any mortal
ever was: religious, fervent, unselfish, gentle, modest, chaste,
patriotic, bent on one thing only,--to be of service to her country,
without reward; and to be of service only by way of encouragement, and
pointing out what seemed to her to be the direction of God.
So Joan fearlessly stood before kings and nobles and generals, yet in
the modest gentleness of conscious virtue, to direct them what to do, as
a sort of messenger of Heaven. What was rank or learning to her? If she
was sent by a voice that spoke to her soul, and that voice was from God,
what was human greatness to her? It paled before the greatness which
commissioned her. In the discharge of her mission all men were alike in
her eyes; the distinctions of rank faded away in the mighty issues which
she wished to bring about, even the rescue of France from foreign
enemies, and which she fully believed she could effect with God's aid,
and in the way that He should indicate.
Whether the ruling powers fully believed in her or not, they at last
complied with her wishes and prayers, though not until she had been
subjected to many insults from learned priests and powerful nobles, whom
she finally won by her modest and wise replies. Said one of them
mockingly: "If it be God's will that the English shall quit France,
there is no need for men-at-arms." To whom she replied: "The
men-at-arms must fight, and God shall give the victory." She saw no
other deliverance than through fighting, and fighting bravely, and
heroically, as the means of success. She was commissioned, she said, to
stimulate the men to fight,--not to pray, but to fight. She promised no
rescue by supernatural means, but only through natural forces. France
was not to despond, but to take courage, and fight. There was no
imposture about her, only zeal and good sense, to impress upon the
country the necessity of bravery and renewed exertions.
The Maid set out for the deliverance of the besieged city in a man's
attire, deeming it more modest under her circumstances, and exposing her
to fewer annoyances. She was arrayed in a suit of beautiful armor, with
a banner after her own device,--white, embroidered with lilies,--and a
sword which had been long buried behind the altar of a church. Under her
inspiring influence an army of six thousand men was soon collected,
commanded by the ablest and most faithful generals who remained to the
King, and accompanied by the Archbishop of Rheims, who, though he had no
great faith in her claims, yet saw in her a fitting instrument to arouse
the people from despair. Before setting out from Blois she dictated a
letter to the English captains before the besieged city, which to them
must have seemed arrogant, insulting, and absurd, in which she
commanded them in God's name to return to their own country, assuring
them that they fought not merely against the French, but against Him,
and hence would be defeated.
The French captains had orders to obey their youthful leader, but not
seeing the wisdom of her directions to march to Orleans on the north
side of the Loire, they preferred to keep the river between them and the
forts of the English. Not daring to disobey her, they misled her as to
the position of Orleans, and advanced by the south bank, which proved a
mistake, and called forth her indignation, since she did not profess to
be governed by military rules, but by divine direction. The city had
been defended by a series of forts and other fortifications of great
strength, all of which had fallen into the hands of the besiegers; only
the walls of the city remained. Joan succeeded in effecting an entrance
for herself on a white charger through one of the gates, and the people
thronged to meet her as an angel of deliverance, with the wildest
demonstrations of joy. Her first act was to repair to the cathedral and
offer up thanks to God; her next was to summon the enemy to retire. In
the course of a few days the French troops entered the city with
supplies. They then issued from the gates to retake the fortifications,
which were well defended, cheered and encouraged by the heroic Maid, who
stimulated them to daring deeds. The French were successful in their
first assault, which seemed a miracle to the English yeomen, who now
felt that they were attacked by unseen forces. Then other forts were
assailed with equal success, Joan seeming like an inspired heroine, with
her eyes flashing, and her charmed standard waving on to victory. The
feats of valor which the French performed were almost incredible. Joan
herself did not fight, but stimulated the heroism of her troops. The
captains led the assault; the Maid directed their movements. After most
of the forts were retaken, the troops wished to rest. Joan knew no rest,
nor fear, nor sense of danger. She would hear of no cessation from
bloody strife until all the fortifications were regained. At the assault
on the last fort she herself was wounded; but she was as insensible to
pain as she was to fear. As soon as her wound was dressed she hurried to
the ramparts, and encouraged the troops, who were disposed to retire. By
evening the last fort or bastile was taken, and the English retired,
baffled and full of vengeance. The city was delivered. The siege was
raised. Not an Englishman survived south of the Loire.
But only part of the mission of this heroic woman was fulfilled. She had
delivered Orleans and saved the southern provinces. She had now the more
difficult work to perform of crowning the King in the consecrated city,
which was in the hands of the enemy, as well as the whole country
between Orleans and Rheims. This task seemed to the King and his court
to be absolutely impossible. So was the raising of the siege of Orleans,
according to all rules of war. Although priests, nobles, and scholars
had praised the courage and intrepidity of Joan, and exhorted the nation
to trust her, since God seemed to help her, yet to capture a series of
fortified cities which were in possession of superior forces seemed an
absurdity. Only the common people had full faith in her, for as she was
supposed to be specially aided by God, nothing seemed to them an
impossibility. They looked upon her as raised up to do most wonderful
things,--as one directly inspired. This faith in a girl of eighteen
would not have been possible but for her exalted character. Amid the
most searching cross-examinations from the learned, she commanded
respect by the wisdom of her replies. Every inquiry had been made as to
her rural life and character, and nothing could be said against her, but
much in her favor; especially her absorbing piety, gentleness, deeds of
benevolence, and utter unselfishness.